Sic Erat In Fatis
by Waiting To Be Broken
Summary: Following after 2x20, Dean wakes up but the jinn catches Sam. Bobby helps Dean to get in his brother's dream so he could get him out of there. But who'd have thought that in Sam's perfect world, Dean is his lover?
1. Chapter 1

The story is not mine (to be honest even the summery is not my creation). I only translated it from here awards . ruslash fic / fictext . php ? id = 43 from Russian with help of Sparrows Fairy, who translated it first with a translating programme, but that still helped me a lot and who I waited for months to upload the story I'm now presenting you but, hey, if he/she doesn't want, I can do it, right? And if you like it, you can watch the mini-serial with the same storyline here www . youtube watch?v=-NERpwbT4t4 done by XnerjaveikaX , my personal hero. You won't be disappointed

Sic Erat In Fatis

"Dean! Oh, God. Hey, wake up!" a painfully familiar voice called to him from afar. For a moment, Dean thought he had failed, that he was still captured in his own dreams. He didn't want to wake up because it would mean another cycle of pain, tearing his soul to pieces. But Sam was calling him so desperately, with a voice full with fear and anxiety that the older couldn't help but respond. It was necessary to wake up, to calm Sammy; the thought hit him like a coachman's whip. Consciousness began to return to him.

"Dean! Wake up, damn it! Hey?" the younger was shaking him, making his recover faster. Dean opened his eyes with a groan. His vision was blurred, as if he was looking through water but he still recognized his brother, Sam Winchester, hunter of evil creatures, continuer of the family business and definitely not the sleek fantasy Sam, a law student and a future husband of Jessica Moore. His heart lightened, but in the same moment it saddened, because he was at home, or more precisely where he didn't have home. God, how good it was to be where everything was familiar, where you don't feel out of place?

"_Auntie Em! There's no place like home,_" he voiced his thoughts. His body felt so weak, as if something was draining all his fluids, which, to a certain extent, was true.

"Thank god. I thought I had lost you for a second," smiled Sammy, his voice full with relief. With trembling hands, he pulled the needle out of his brother neck and threw it aside. Dean wanted to reply, "Of course I'm here, how can I let you down," but he only had energy to keep breathing.

"You almost did."

"So let's get you down," the younger reached out to cut the rope holding his big brother. Dean started swaying with the rope and his vision blurred. Yet that didn't stop him from catching a move behind the other.

"Sam, behind you!" he shouted with his last strength. His brother swung around and aimed a blow at the genie, which was coming out of the shadows with a silver knife soaked with the blood of a lamb. The creature blocked his attack and they started to fight, which Sam was clearly loosing. The knife fell from his hands and hit the floor.

_"No, no, no, God no!" _Dean started to pull the rope down, trying to escape. His head was throbbing, "_Just a little more, just a little more__,__" _His weakness was forgotten, he didn't have time for that, and he had to help Sam! Another tug and the damn rope was torn down.

The genie threw Sam on the stairs, laying on top of him and trying to get to his face. Dean rushed to the knife, and acting on pure adrenalin, otherwise how can anyone explain why he didn't even shake when he bent to get the weapon. Thoughts were rushing through his head like cockroaches but one overshadowed everything else "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy."

He ran to the genie and stabbed the creature in the back. It wheezed, twitched and its body fell, slipping down a bit, coming to rest with his tattooed head resting on the younger hunter.

"Sam, Sammy..." Dean called, wearily learning against the wall. Yet his brother didn't respond, his head was turned to the side, covered with his overly large head of hair. He wasn't moving. Steel claws of fear clutched at Dean's heart. God, was he too late? "Sam. Sammy!" he felt weak in the knees but somehow he climbed the stairs. He pushed aside the genie crushing his younger brother and took his brother's face in his hands. "Sam, come on!" He got no reaction, the small eyes still closed. "Sam, come on, you bastard, wake up!" Dean slapped him across the face but Sam's head just rocked helplessly to the side. "Sammy!" Dean kept shaking the other; his strength was at its end but the fear kept him moving. He hadn't made it, hadn't saved him.

Three months later

Dean put aside the thick book and rubbed his eyes. He had been so tired these last few months. Mountains of books about Eastern mythology and Djinns, in particular, the daily calls to all hunters he knew, driving hundreds of miles, hoping to find a solution... and nothing, all for nothing. He turned his head toward his brother laying on the bed, carefully wrapped in a blanked as pain rushed through him.

It had been three months since that day and Sam still hadn't come to his senses. He looked haggard, his skin pale as snow. What kept him alive, Dean didn't know, but he could only hope to continue until he find a way to save his little brother from the world the fucking genie had put him into.

To blunt the fear for Sammy, the guilt for not having saved him and the pain, Dean turned his thoughts to his own dream world; meeting his mother, seeing his brother smile happily, and his father who had died from a heart attack and not because he had sold his soul to save his eldest son... even Carmen, a girl he had never seen in his entire life was like a dream come true. That dream he had never talked about with anyone, a dream he had never admitted he wanted, even to himself; a dream of a normal life, a family, and of his own house.

Dean was exhausted. And not only physically- he slept three hours a night and ate only when his stomach was playing him a concert- but also morally. During the day, he was digging through books or sitting on a chair beside his brother's bed, never looking at him, hoping that a miracle would happen and the younger would open his eyes, but he knew that hope was just a self-deception.

At night, Dean dreamt about the life the genie had showed him, which was why he always woke up more heart broken than before. Sometimes, he dreamed of the cemetery where his imaginary father was buried, only this time on the headstone was written 'Samuel Winchester.' Waking up soaked in sweat, he jumped out of the bed, getting tangled in a blankets and rushed to check on Sam. Finding that nothing had changed, Dean didn't know whether to laugh with relief or cry in despair.

All these months, the brothers lived with Bobby, an old hunter, who owned a lot of books. He was the one the oldest Winchester had to thank for his three hours of sleep. Singer literally forced him to lie down and, even though Dean resisted, the moment his head hit the pillow he immediately fell asleep. The same went for food.

"If you don't sleep and eat who will help Sam?" said Bobby, trying to get his guest to eat, "What will your brother do when he wakes up and finds your grave instead of you?"

The argument always got him, although he secretly kept thinking that sleeping and eating were just lost time he could be using to study a few books, one of which had to hold a solution.

Dean turned back to look at the pile of books lying on the table and inwardly groaned. He just could not. Books would not help him; he wasted those three months, digging into them. He needed another way, but what? And how would he find it?

He got up from his chair and frowned. He repeatedly rotated his head and shoulders to stretch his muscles, and went to Sammy's bed. During the past few hours he had been sitting at the table, nothing had changed. Dean felt his heart ache in pain. He sat on the edge of the bed and covered his brother's hand with his palm. It was cold and he squeezed it to warm it up.

"Sammy, wake up, please." Dean had only begged someone once, just once, when the Yellow-eyed demon was torturing his father. But even at that moment, it wasn't so painful as it was now because he knew that any moment he could loose his brother, the one who he had sworn to defend his whole life but failed to protect. "Well, come on, buddy, are you going to leave me now? Who is going to show me the right path? Seriously, I miss your righteousness," Dean smiled sadly. For a moment, it seemed Sam's eyelids fluttered. He held his breath, leaning close to his brother but he didn't notice anything more. The younger stayed in the same condition, like he was... dead... Dean shuddered at the thought- it came too often to him- and hurried to check Sam's pulse. Feeling weak in the knees he sighed in relief. No, that was nonsense! Sam was alive, of course he was alive, and he would wake up because Dean was going to do everything to get him back!

* * *

"Dean, Dean," a hand was shaking his shoulder. Consciousness slowly began to return, overpowering the power of the sleep, "Dean, wake up!"

The oldest Winchester abruptly opened his eyes and, still not fully awake, looked at Bobby. The old hunter was clearly agitated. Something must have happened. Maybe… His heart trembled.

"What, Bobby? Sam?" Dean straightened in his chair, ignoring the pain in his back (again, he had fallen asleep at the table, resting his head on an open book) and turned toward the bed. He was immediately disappointed. Nothing has changed, Sam was still lying there with his eyes closed, and it was unlikely for him to come to his senses. What if Bobby had woken him… because it was too late? Dean was about to throw himself at his brother but Singer kept him in his spot.

"Dean wake up, nothing happened, Sam is alive," he said, calming the Winchester boy. Dean noisily inhaled and exhaled through his nose and threw another look at Sammy. In those past three months, pain, fear and joy because his brother was still alive were so closely intertwined together that he didn't know what was happening in his soul anymore.

"Why did you wake me up?"

"I think I found a way out," Bobby's lips twitched into a smile, "And I'm 80% sure that it is going to work."

"What?" Dean looked at him, afraid to believe, to believe that everything wasn't lost, that there was still hope, "Say it, Bobby, what did you find?"

* * *

"I was wondering what would have happened if I hadn't looked here," Bobby put a dark, thick, dusty book on the table in front of Dean. The Winchester bent down to read the title but the letters had faded and it was impossible to make them out.

Dean straightened in the chair and looked at the older hunter, "Bobby, what is that?"

"This is a book about the different worlds, including the ones that our consciousness creates," Bobby responded, leafing through the book trying to find the right page. "Do you remember what we need the genie for? He shows us the way but now since he is dead we can't ask him where Sam is. From that book, we can learn how to bring your brother back to reality. Here," pointing to the section he had been looking for.

"The world of someone's dreams," read Dean. Suddenly it was hard to breath. God, had they found it? Was there still hope? "Tell me that here is written how to save Sam…" he spoke softly as if afraid to voice his hope.

"Yes, but..." Bobby stood and rubbed the back of his hand, not daring to say something.

"What "but"?" Dean got up from his chair and they stared at each other, "What? What do you need to help Sammy? Something that no one had seen for a hundred of years? A ritual in Africa? A sacrifice?"

"No, no such things, I have everything we need," the older hunter assured him. "Just…" he glanced at the sleeping Sam, "Don't you think that he would have figured it out by now?"

"Well..." Dean went around the table and approached his brother, "he probably can't understand what this is, he must think it is just his imagination," he stopped next to the bed and stared at Sam. He had thought about it many times and every reason he could think of sounded less and less believable.

Then Bobby said the one thing that he was afraid to even think about, that he feared almost as much as loosing his brother, "but what if Sam understands everything and just doesn't want to come back?" the older hunter continued to put his finger on the wounded soul of the Winchester boy. Only the idea of Sammy not wanting to come back to the reality, to Dean, caused him this amount of pain. No it was fine, his brother wasn't so cruel, he was just a bore with puppy eyes, pain in the eyes, which he always had to save.

No matter how he comforted and assured himself, in his heart he knew that Sammy had every reason to stay in his dream. Didn't Dean, himself, want to remain forever in his own dream, even though it was too perfect to be true? Wasn't he happy just sitting in the kitchen of his home in Lawrence, munching a sandwich, made by his mother? Wasn't he happy when Jessica and Sam said that they had decided to marry? Didn't he feel comfortable and safe next to Carmen? Even after realizing it was just a fiction, he had hesitated. He didn't want to go back to the real world, when he had seen the world he had invented for himself. If he could do that, then how could he blame his brother?

It was so confusing; he didn't know what was happening to him but one thing he knew for sure.

"In any case, I must try," his voice was hoarse for some reason. He cleared his throat and repeated, "I must," he looked at Bobby, who nodded.

* * *

"So everything is quite simple," Bobby said as he gave his last instruction to Dean, "I will send you into the world where Sam is now, then you and your brother both kill yourselves and wake up already here in this reality. All clear?" he lifted his head and looked at Dean.

"Of course, it isn't too hard to understand" the younger nodded, smiling nervously. Damn, this story was making his emotions hard to control. "I swear as soon as I get Sam back, I'm going to kick his ass," he told himself, trying not to think about the "if."

Dean was nervous. He had to look so deeply into his brother's soul that it was uncomfortable. What would Sam's dream be? What is the most important for him? Only six years ago Dean, without hesitating, would have answered a normal life, Jessica as his wife, and the Yellow-eyed demon dead were the things his younger brother wanted. But now, he couldn't even imagine because so many things had changed.

Dean looked from Bobby to his brother.

Sam was lying on the floor so his head would be in the circle, in which were inscribed various characters. Dean also had to rest his head there, but on the opposite side. At least that was written in the book.

"Well, you ready?" Bobby snatched him from his thoughts with the voice of an older hunter. Dean looked at him and smiled.

"Of course, I have always wanted to be in the head of that bore." He walked to the other side of the circle and lay on the floor, trying to get his body as it was shown in the diagrams, "I went right?"

Bobby looked appreciatively at the brothers, once again looked into the book, then walked over and pulled Dean's head so that his cheek was touching Sam's temple. It was weird; to be like that with his brother, he immediately felt uncomfortable.

"Here is said that there must be a tactile contact," Bobby said, walking away from the Winchester's to watch from afar. "Yes," he nodded, "everything is correct. Remember, as soon as I start reading the spell you must completely focus your thoughts on Sam. Ready?"

Dean nodded and closed his eyes. "Focus your thoughts on Sam," came from Bobby. What would be simpler than to focus on something that has been in your head your entire life?

The older hunter began to read the spell. Gradually, his voice started to fade away as Dean felt like he was standing on the edge of an abyss and wind was pushing him from behind. By pure instinct, he tried to resist but the more energy he wasted to do so, the harder, it seemed, it was to remain conscious. In the end, he gave up and fell into the precipice.

* * *

His awakening was abrupt. It was as if someone had pressed the 'Wake up' button inside of Dean. For a moment, he didn't even realize where he was and looked around with bewildered eyes, but then he remembered everything- Bobby had sent him into, so to speak, Sam's dream and he had to bring him back to the reality. Confusion was quickly replaced by curiosity. If he expelled the fear for his brother, he admitted to himself, he was really interested in seeing what Sam dreamed about.

Obviously, he had to find his brother, but something told him that Sam and himself had to be nearby, if it was the younger Winchester's dream. First, it would be better to look around, Dean thought going into a sitting position.

He sat on the couch, in the living room, virtually no different from his own dream. From the large windows curtained with transparent tulle, fell soft morning light, through which the room took on a slightly bluish light. Before the sofa, there was a coffee table with a few newspapers and magazines. A few meters away there was a TV. Against the wall stood an ordinary desk, holding a laptop, desk lamp, and some books and notebooks, built into a pile. To one side of the table stood a large bookcase, with shelves full with photographs.

Dean immediately got up and walked closer. He remembered how he looked at the photos in his mother's house: a family photo, clearly taken seven years after Sam's birth, his brother's picture from his graduation, a quite young boy with an arm around a girl's waist, a black-white photograph of his father playing basketball...

Now, looking at the pictures from Sam's fantasy Dean was thinking how he was going to hurt his brother when he told him his place was not here, in this tale. That he can't have this peaceful life.

He told himself that again and again, as he examined the photographs. There is the family photo, not identically the same as his dream, but essentially was the same- all of them, his mother, his father and both brothers all cheerful and waving. Here is a picture of Sam, Jessica and another guy, all of them laughing. She is between them, both her arms around their necks so it looks like she is hanging on them and the men supporting her at the waist. And here is Dean, himself, with two girls and three boys. All six were grimacing, pretending making faces at the camera. Looking at it he couldn't help but chuckle, here he was, a Dean who had a carefree life, the complete opposite of the real Dean.

When he looked at the following photo, his heart fluttered. The picture showed the two brothers together. They were both wet, Sam's hair was stuck on his forehead, while Dean's stuck in different directions. Judging by the background of the picture, it was taken after the brother's had a good bath in the river. Proof of that were the rolled up pants and wet shirts. What caught the attention of the older Winchester was the look of absolute and infinite happiness in Sam's eyes. Dean didn't know how to explain it, but it seemed that his brother and Dream-Dean were even closer than in reality, even after everything they had been through in the real life, something that Dean failed to understand.

The Winchester boy didn't know why he was having that thought, but he just felt that here, in this reality, his brother had found something that he couldn't find in their reality.

Laughing distracted him from his painful thoughts. Two people were laughing, one of them was Sam, but the other, although it's sounded familiar, he couldn't remember where he had heard it before.

The hunter looked around, trying to find where was the sound coming from. He left the room, stepping in a corridor, and saw a few doors. The first one, judging by the frame, was the exit, the other revealed a pantry, and the third was ajar. From there came the laughter.

Dean, not knowing why, crept up on tiptoes and peeped through the crack. At first, he didn't even realize what he saw, but when he did he had to restrain himself from letting a surprised exclamation. It was the last thing he expected to see.

There was a bedroom behind the door. On the bed was lying Sam, naked, with arms around the neck of _another naked men. _But that wasn't the most shocking. Dean's heart sank when he indentified the man.

Literally, for one second his whole world turned upside down. He didn't even know what to think about it. Was that Sam's sacred dream? To have sex with his brother? How was that even possible? And what about Jessica? And Madison, after all?

His head was a mess! He couldn't believe what he had just seen. He had made a mistake. Bobby hadn't sent him to the right place. This couldn't be true.

At that moment, the couple decided the break off the laughter with a kiss. Dean's eyes widened when he saw his brother dragging his clone down for a passionate kiss, as the other Dean was stroking his thigh, his leg bent at the knee as his hands slid down to Sam's buttocks. When the imaginary Dean started kissing his brother lower and lower and Sam could only respond with moans, the real Dean couldn't take it anymore. He stepped back, trying not to make any noises. To watch his brother give himself to some guy, letting him... in fact, Dean- that was when the older Winchester smiled wryly, not knowing what to think about it- was unbearable. He clasped his hands behind his head and pressed his back against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

"What is it Sammy?" he asked quietly, even though the lovers where moaning so loud that they wouldn't even hear a bomb. "God, how did this happen? When?" Dean turned his head toward the bedroom as if expecting to see an answer. Instead he saw Sam's face screwed up, fingers clutching the bars at the head of the bed, moaning every time "Dean" bent toward him.

Involuntarily, Dean thought how great his brother looked like that -his strong body, wet with sweat, his parted lips from where moans and screams slipped, his hair, part of it on the pillow, and part of it sticking on his temple- No, he had never thought about Sam like that. He never thought how beautiful he was. No, he certainly knew that he was pretty nice guy and he would had enjoyed enormous popularity with women, if he had not been so shy, but then again, Dean had never thought about his brother from the perspective of the opposite sex. _And now he could be the woman__,_ chuckled his inner voice. The statement was confirmed when a pleasurable scream came from the bedroom, soon followed by another.

Dean imagined how he would fuck his brother, how he would enter him, how he himself is... it wasn't good, the older Winchester sickened, a lump of nausea went up to his throat. God, he was going to be sick.

He looked around feverishly. He caught the sign of what seemed to be a closet. Okay, fine. Those two were still so busy with each other that they wouldn't notice. On almost all fours, he managed to bend over a luckily empty bucket before he emptied his stomach.

Five minutes later Dean came back to himself and left the closet, his gaze determined. He wasn't leaving here without Sam!

It was true that the older Winchester didn't know how he was going to talk to him... or even look him in the eye! He didn't know what to do. All the words that he wanted to say to Sam now seemed empty and stupid.

No matter how broken he felt, he still found strength to go to the bedroom.

He didn't know what was drawing him to that room. Maybe it was related to the reason he had come, and the thing he had seen not long ago. Despite the shock, despite that his mind still refusing to assimilate what he had seen, despite that he had just thrown up, Dean was mesmerized, stunned. He had never seen his brother so… passionate… relaxed... sexy... that was the man's thoughts and if he could he would probably run away from himself _Damn, what are you thinking! Who do you think that is? It's Sam, Sammy- your little brother,_ he cursed himself, _He has been banging your clone and you seem perfectly fine with it!_ Agreeing with his inner voice, Dean remembered how his clone had pushed his hips into Sam, and it filled him with rage.

He tried not to listen to his inner voice, as he looked through the crack between the door and the jamb again. Sam and "Dean" were still lying on the bed, kissing. Seeing his clone lick his brother lips, burying his hands in those fine locks and listening to Sam's moans, Dean felt irritated. He wanted to turn away and not watch. But he couldn't find the strength to even look away. The shock and revulsion the man immediately felt, was replaced by incomprehension. He failed to understand how, if that was Sam's dream, he had never noticed before. After all, there must be some signs! Sam wasn't so good at pretending and Dean almost feels offended that he had never seen the most important thing in his brother.

But what was more, he didn't understand his own attitude to what he was seeing. The older Winchester had always been against same-sex relationships. For him, it was something strange and wrong. He just couldn't get how a man could get pleasure from kissing another man, fucking him. But now after seeing... after he discovered that Sam wasn't exactly straight... he couldn't see anything strange or wrong in it.

He was distracted by a nasty noise, which get on his nerves. The oldest Winchester grimaced and barely held back an irritated growl.

It turned out that this was the alarm clock, which "Dean" had turned off after a few tries. Then he turned to Sam and asked innocently,

"Where were we?" Dean couldn't see his face completely but he could bet that his clone was smirking. After all, who, if not Dean, could know what expression was on his face when he said some word or another.

Yet, 'Dean's' charms didn't work on Sam. He put his hands on his chest, not allowing him to get closer, and said "We stopped because you have to go to work. Your boss won't be happy if you are late again," the younger one smiled. He was relaxed and calm. Dean unwittingly caught himself thinking that he didn't remember the last time he saw his brother like that.

"Well, if he knew the reason why I'm late he would understand," responded the clone. He inclined his head slightly so that his nose came in contact with Sam's and then raised his head and whispered, "I love you."

The mocking smile became tender. Sam slid his hands from Dean's chest to his neck and pulled him closer.

"I love you too," he said and then pressed his lips to Dean's.

That was the last straw for Dean. He tiptoed away from the bedroom, to the closet and quietly closed the door behind himself. Firstly, he didn't have desire to come face to face with his own clone, so he had to wait until the double had left the house, and secondly, he had to come to his senses.

What he had overheard made him think. How many times in his life he had told Sam he loved him? At the age of ten wasn't considered. After thinking for a while, he came to the conclusion that he had never done this. It was something their family was missing. "No snots" was Winchester's unwritten rule. It was so strange to hear Sam say, "I love you" simultaneously to him and not to him. Oddly, because it was addressed for him and it was a shame that these words were said to just a copy of him, that Sam had created.

The sound of pants swinging was heard. The older Winchester tensed but then relaxed when he heard his own voice (note that Dean couldn't stop smiling- psychiatrists would be delighted with his story) shouting, "Sam, I'm off!" then slammed the door and it went quiet.

Dean sighed in relief. If his twin had stayed and talked to Sam it would have been very problematic.

He emerged from his hidden place and went to the bedroom. Somewhere in the middle of his path, he heard the creaking bed, and then the soft steps of bare feet. A door slammed and a second later he caught the sound of water. Sam was in the shower. Dean took that as a bonus time to finally gather strength and decide what to say to his brother, but nothing came to his mind. Just his luck.

He stood by the wall, staring at the floor until the sound of water didn't disappear. A door creaked and footsteps could be heard again. Drawing even closer, Dean looked through the slot and saw Sam making the bed, dressed in jeans and T-shirt. His wet hair, still heavy with moisture, wasn't sticking to his sides as it did when it was dry, though the tips have already started to curl slightly.

Now would probably be a really good time to show his presence, thought Dean, but the idea of entering the room when his brother had been just fucked by his clone didn't attract him. Why not do it when, for example, the younger was having a breakfast? Dean was aware that he was just postponing it, but he couldn't help it. In this world, his brother had found what he truly wanted and even though he didn't understand half of those things, he knew that he had to shatter that world to pieces.

Therefore, Dean, not wanting his brother to run into him, went back to the closet, "how stupid of me, going back and forth" he chuckled to himself. In the same moment he closed the closet door, another one cracked open and someone walked past him. They reached the end of the corridor, past the living room and turned right. Apparently, there was another room that Dean hadn't noticed, which, judging by the fact that dishes began to clang, he assumed, was a kitchen.

The older Winchester got out of the closet, mentally promising himself he wouldn't go back to it- enough beating around the bush- and followed his brother. Already standing at the doorway leading to the kitchen, the hunter jumped with surprise when he heard a squeak.

"If you have not listened to the messages you can listen to them after the beep," and again there was a squeak. Dean chuckled: "Well of course, it's an answering machine " and peered into the room.

Sam stood with his back toward the door there, slicing the bread on a cutting board and putting it into the toaster. A pan was set on the stove. Next to the board on the table laid four eggs and cartoon of milk. The picture was so peaceful, so… home-y that it made Dean stare, but a voice from the speaker prevented him from sinking deeper into his nirvana.

"Boys, this is your mother" Dean's heart arched "How are you? All right? I hope you hadn't forgotten that your father and I are waiting for you this weekend. Your father would get all wasted at the anniversary and that would be simple intolerable," there was mocking in Mary's voice and Dean heard that Sam smiled. But then his mother told him with sadness and light parental anxiety "Sam, Dean, call when you get back, okay? I'm worried about you boys, because you have stopped calling. Your father and I love you so much!" there was a click and the phone squeaked again.

Sam broke the eggs into a bowl and poured the milk there. The pan had started to hiss.

Dean was still at the door, and he couldn't recover. He seemed to have returned to his fantasy, in which the demon has never come into their house. In this world, the Winchesters were ordinary American family, no different from other families. At this point, the eldest of the brothers hated the genie, which had stirred up old wounds of first Dean, and now Sam, who made the brothers see what it could have been, but it will never happen in reality. Yes, the imaginations of both Winchesters differed, but in the same moment were so alike, in what they both dreamt of, with those whom they had loved and lost. As if in confirmation of Dean's thoughts, the phone came back to life.

"Winchester, where have you been?" there was jocular tone in Jessica Moore's voice, "I have news- Nick and I finally chose the date of our wedding." The older brother's eyes widened, in this reality Jessica wasn't marring to Sam? The feeling that he would never understand his brother became even stronger, "you have exactly three weeks," the machine had continued to broadcast Moore, "to settle all of your affairs, because if you don't come I'll be offended. This particularly applies to you Dean! I know how you don't like the official events, but I hope this time you won't flinch. Otherwise, I'll buy myself a hamster, name it in your honor and then torture it! Whew!" After those words, Dean stared angrily at the phone while Sam laughed, "Well, I need to ring up the others, see you soon guys!" The answering machine went quiet.

Sam shook his head and, still laughing, said to himself, "Yes, Dean will be very happy if you name a hamster in his honour," he filled the pan with the mixture of eggs and milk, covering it with a lid and apparently intending to reach the sink to put in it the bowl, turned to the door. The brother's eyes met.

"You?" Sam sighed in surprise.

"Sammy..." Dean took a few steps forward, unknowingly exposing his hands, as if preparing to defend himself "I.."

"What are you doing here? How did you get in here?" showering him with questions the younger didn't approach his brother but didn't step back too. Not looking away from Dean, with wary and frightened eyes, he put the bowl on the table.

The older Winchester suddenly thought how his brother could tell that before him was the real Dean and not a copy. "Just like you could tell the difference between this Sam and the one from your imagination. You two have known each other all your lives," whispered an inner voice and he agreed with it, thinking that wasn't the biggest problem at the moment. The questions were a few but it confirmed Dean's apprehension: Sam knew that this was not the real world but didn't want to leave it. It caused him pain but not strong enough to give up.

"Sam, I came for you," he didn't beat around the bush, "Bobby helped me get here…"

"What did you see?" interrupted him his brother. He was obviously nervous and his breathing was heavy "Did you see..."he didn't finish but Dean knew what he was asking. He swallowed hard and nodded.

"Yes, I saw it" the older made an effort not to look away, knowing that would end it.

"Oh…" Sam recoiled. He clasped his hands behind his head and turned away.

"Sammy..." Dean took another few steps towards his brother, not knowing what to say, how to explain that despite everything, despite what his brother is he still won't give up "I understand..."

"Really?" Sam whirled toward him. His voice sounded angry, but Dean didn't believe him because his eyes were shining with something quite different; fear, pain, feelings, from which Dean had trying to save him his entire life, though not only it didn't work, but he eventually became their cause. "I mean it, alright? Do not lie to me! Do not pity me! You don't know anything ... "his voice suddenly cracked and the last words he said quietly "don't know what it is ... what it ..."

Silence stretched between the Winchesters. What could he say? Dean had never thought so hard about something. How was he going to convince his brother? And about what? That he wanted him to return? That he wasn't bothered by the fact that a copy of him had fucked Sam a few minutes ago? That he understood it all?

"You are right, I don't understand," Dean admitted and felt that they had came to a very slippery topic and it all depended now on whether he could find the right words to bring Sam back and not loose him as a brother and a friend all in once, "but Sam, this world... it isn't real. And the fact that you are here… it's wrong.

"And what is right, Dean? That we don't have a home?" Sam's eyes sparkled and his voice trembled, "the fact that mom, dad, Jess... are all dead? That I..." he noisily sucked air through his nose and lowered his head. "You were wrong to come here, I'm not coming back. I can't..." he raised his head and looked at his brother, "after all this ... I just cannot. Sorry." He turned his back and walked to the window.

It was like a physical blow. At this moment, Dean even had difficulty breathing. Sam really didn't want to come back… come back to him.

"Sam," Dean made another attempt, "your place is not here. You can't live in a dream. You have to come back," Dean stepped forward, shortening the distance between them. "I know how hard this is, I have gone through it, but the truth is that nothing, not even an ideal world, can fully replace your real life. You must let them go ... mother, father, Jessica ... they're dead, and they would never come back, they are..." Dean swallowed, "dead and you are alive." The shorter man paused and looked at his brother, waiting for his response, hoping that his words had somehow helped him and, at the same time, fearing that he had been mistaken.

Sam sighed and bowed his head.

"Yes, you're right," he said very quietly, turning toward Dean and looking in his eyes, obviously wanting to add something but not daring to do it. They just stood and looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Dean tried to understand what his brother was thinking and then suddenly it hit him: it wasn't their parents or Jessica- enough time had passed for him to accept that they were dead- it was Dean, himself. 'Don't know what is it… what it...' All that was keeping him here was Dean. Specifically, that Dean created by Sam, that one, who ... loves Sam, just as he loved his big brother.

The omelet on the stove began to hiss. There was a smell of burning.

"Damn." Sam ran to the oven and in a hurry, for some reason, didn't grasp the handle of the pan but the pan itself "Damn" he whispered, jerking his hand dramatically to his chest. With his other hand, he took the pan and put it on a cold burner and then turned off the stove. He brought his burned fingers to his mouth and started sucking on them, apparently in effort to relieve the pain, "What?" he asked, glancing from under his bags at his brother.

Dean smiled. His brother now reminded him of when he first learnt not to touch the hot stove. The older had taken a long time to calm down his baby brother; he still remembered how he had blown on the trustingly outstretched arm; how he had wiped Sam's tears from his cheeks. The adult Sam would have hardly consented to such a procedure.

"Oh, you slacker," the older shook his head, took his brother by the wrist of his injured hand and dragged Sam to the sink. He started the cold water and put the younger's fingers under the spray. Sam gasped.

"Being with me always means trouble," he smiled. Dean just smirked. In principle, to continue to hold the other hand had been optional but now it felt that if he let it go he would stop feeling complete and he suddenly realized that he was dying to touch Sam. The older, unconsciously, began to rub the other's fingers.

"What are you doing?" asked Sam with a sort of muffled voice; his hand suddenly jerked, and not only because of the cold water. "Dean…"

Dean stopped his manipulations and, still clutching in his hand his brother's palm, turned his head and looked at the younger. He wanted to ask him about so many things but simple couldn't. Sappy conversations weren't his thing, and, besides, the only thing that mattered was to bring Sam back, to help him. And if it was necessary he would became the Dean from the younger's dream... he was ready to take the risk. That idea, which was in his head for about half an hour, didn't seem so terrible. After all... it was Sam, his Sam, and to keep him close was the most important thing, the price for it... the price was unimportant.

Therefore, Dean turned off the water. Still holding his brother's hand, he opened it, all this time not breaking eye contact. Sam's eyes widened. Now he seemed so helpless, there was a mixture of fear, suspicion, puzzlement and timid hopes in his eyes, his lips were twitching, his whole body quivering.

Obeying the sudden impulse to get closer, Dean took a step forward, but his brother stepped half a step backward, his back hitting the edge of the table

"Dean..." he whispered pleadingly. He didn't even try to free his hands.

"Shut up," Dean whispered, feeling that if he delayed a second more he would abandon the idea. Then he would regret it his entire life, because he needed this even more than his brother. Because never before in his life he had wanted more to surrender him with his warmth and to feel his warmth.

Still not letting go of his brother's wrist, Dean put his hands on Sam's back, and slowly pulled the younger to himself and touched Sam's lips with his own. Sam inhaled loudly through his nose, but didn't pull away. Taking that as permission, the older continued with his caresses.

It wasn't like women. It wasn't bad or disgusting, it was just different, in a way. Sam's lips were warm and firm, they tasted like mint, and they seemed to set off their heat, warming the Dean's but not making them burn... Dean had never thought that kissing Sam would be so nice. The thought that this was a man's lips, his brother's lips, became dim as a badly washed glass, and it was about to melt.

Dean moved even closer, finally destroying those inches, which still remained between their bodies. He finally let go of his brother's hand and placed his hand on his cheek, trying to make the kiss deeper.

When he slipped his tongue between the other's lips and stroked his teeth, asking him to let him in, Sam opened his mouth with a groan. The younger's fingers touched his elbow and gently squeezed it, as if to encourage what Dean was doing.

Time had lost it's significance, had ceased to move, had just frozen on it's spot, as if allowing the brothers to forget everything, except each other.

When the air no longer sufficed, Dean broke the kiss with a groan, but didn't let go of Sam and pressed his forehead to his brother's and closed his eyes

"Oh" he whispered, restoring his breathing. His hand's began to stroke the younger's head, burrowing into thick hair, his brother's.

"Why?" also whispered Sam with a breathless voice. He didn't try to break the contact, his hands still clutching Dean's elbows.

"That's why I need you... that's why..." the older hesitated "come back.. please" he lifted his head to look at his brother"please" he repeated

Continuing to look at him, Sam opened the top drawer and started to search for something by touch. The sound of metal hitting metal cut the air. Finally, the younger found what he was searching for. A knife: a normal kitchen knife.

Dean's heart was beating rapidly. God, had he really done it?

"Where? In the heart?" asked Sam

"Yes" Dean nodded, let go off him and stepped back

Biting his lips, Sam looked at him and then around the kitchen, as if to say goodbye, and then looked down at the knife in his trembling hands. He swallowed and looked back at Dean

"Come on" said the older softly "I'll follow right behind you"

Sam took a few deep breaths and then leveled the knife with his chest, clutching on it tightly with both hands.

Dean was terrified. Although he knew what was going to happen, the sight of his brother, preparing to shove a knife into himself, made everything inside him freeze with fear. Dean clenched his fists, trying to stay still, to mute the instinct to protect his family.

Sam took one last deep breath, closed his eyes and with all his strength plunged the knife into his chest. Not holding back, Dean groaned.

At first, it seemed like nothing happened and then Sam flashed a few times and vanished into thin air. The knife fell on the floor with a crash. There wasn't a drop of blood on him.

The older sighed in relief. Now, it was his turn.

To do this a second time wasn't so difficult, because now Dean knew he was doing the right thing. He picked up the fallen knife. For a moment it seemed that it still keeps Sam's warmth. Sam. After thinking about it Dean smiled and thrusted the knife into his heart.

It didn't hurt like the first time. He just fell into the darkness.

* * *

His awakening was like surfacing from water. Sam abruptly opened his eyes and simultaneously took a deep breath, immediately beginning to cough.

"Sam, Sam, calm down, everything is all right," said a familiar voice. A hand gripped his shoulder. Bobby. It was Bobby_. __So I'm really back_, flashed through his mind and quickly disappeared. His cough was fading away and Sam allowed himself to cover his eyes, as his breathing was restoring. He was feeling weak with every fibre of his body. However, that was the only thing he was feeling and he was glad for it. He didn't like not wanting to think.

"Sammy," a slightly husky voice sounded almost under his ear, as the warmth of someone's breath hit his cheek. But it wasn't just someone. It was his brother's, the one that he would recognize even among thousands.

He remembered that Dean had kissed him, a moment ago in his imagination. And it was so... good. Nice, although a little scary. Because even thought Sam loved his brother, he knew that the hope for something more than fraternal relations with Dean was unnecessary. And the younger had strangled the hope that one day they will be able to cross that line, was able to drive it all in the farthest corner of his soul. He even began to think that everything Dean was for him was a brother, a beloved one, but a brother nonetheless.

But that damn genie had destroyed the delicate balance on which Sam had worked so hard, and everything had rolled like a snowball. His parents... Jessica.. Dean.. Dean, who loved him as the younger dreamed about, who was able not only to give love but to be able to accept it. The feeling of being wanted, reciprocated with maddening joy.

And then it came that Dean, who was supposed to hate his brother for those feelings, but who instead gave him hope. And was that what gave him strength to abandon the beautiful world created by the genie. Now Sam, feeling that he was close to his brother, immediately opened his eyes, turned his head and found Dean just a few inches away from him.

The hidden anxiety in the emerald eyes was, according to Sam, too much. But it was Dean. He was always worried about Sam, even when he was well. So this wasn't surprising but the younger still wanted to assure his brother that now everything would be normal.

"Guys, are you alright?" asked Singer. He squatted next to the brothers, voice full almost parental concern. He gave Dean a hand to help him up. The older immediately grabbed it and got up.

"I'm, as you can see, fine," Dean said, without looking at Sam. He was specifically looking anywhere except in the eyes of the younger. He felt his heart become heavy. As if something had snapped. Sam could not understand what was happening, but he already felt the anxiety creeping up. But he wasn't able to order his thoughts because, in that moment, Bobby and Dean leaned over him and gently lifted him to his feet- one supporting on right and the other on left.

"Hey, I'm quite able to move myself!" Sam immediately rebelled, even though he realized that none of what he said was true. His whole body was so relaxed that any muscle tension caused discomfort, his head was a bit dizzy. He felt like he was a rag doll.

"You can't" confirmed his thought Dean "You were off for three months, we can call it comatose. It isn't a trip to the spa," he and Bobby practically carried him to bed and laid him down. Dean covered him with a blanket.

"Three months" his brother's words echoed in his head. Sam had stayed in that world for three months. Was that a long or short period of time? At first glance, it seemed like a long one. If we forget that in reality that three months had been more like a half year in Sam's imagination; A really good half a year, even though only imaginary. Sam thought about it, because he was afraid to think about what had been these three months for Dean. The older had been ready to do everything to return his brother. Everything.

_"Why?"_

_"That's why I need you... that's why... come back.. please"_

God, was he mistaken. Had Dean deceived him?

* * *

"_Dean.."_

_Dean ran his hand down his brother's chest and then went the same way, but this time paving the path with kisses. When he licked his navel, Sam took a deep breath and arched his back._

_The older just smirked, took Sam by the hips and dragged him closer, literally crushing him to his knees and started kissing his hipbone, gradually descending down closer to his goal. Meanwhile, his fingers slid between his brother's buttocks and massaged his ring of muscles._

_"Oh" moaned Sam, trashing his head on the pillow and shutting his eyes._

_Dean immediately stopped his manipulations. The disappointed sigh from the younger made everything in him thrill from thinking that all he wanted from his brother was okay._

_He took Sam by the elbows and pulled him up, forcing him to sit. Finally, the younger was on his knees, and Dean, not wasting time, slithered into a wet, possessive kiss. His brother's hands on his back didn't aloof and Sam himself responded with such ardor that, for a moment, the older was scared that Sam would drink his soul._

_His hands slipped on the hot, damp with sweat skin, squeezing it until it was blue and then stroked, as if asking for forgiveness. Dean's fingers ran along his brother's spine and then patted the recess between his buttocks, making Sam shiver._

_The younger broke the kiss and whispered into Dean's lips, searing them with his hot breath_

_"Take me..."_

Dean abruptly opened his eyes, sighed loudly and quickly sat on the bed, looking dumbfounded in front of him.

"Dean?.." asked Sam sleepily, turning on a lamp. He wasn't fully awake, but his voice was full with concern "What happened?"

The older looked at him and calmed down. Sam with his hair, sticking in every direction, fingerprints on his cheeks, with a faded T-shirt, looking so familiar, so domestic... so different from the Sam from his dream, that the older, who only now realized that he wasn't breathing, sigh in relief.

"Nothing" he shook his head "Just a silly dream, sleep now, we are going to be on the road the whole day tomorrow and the car is not the best place to sleep."

"You're sure you are all right," asked Sam once again.

"Yes," said Dean.

The younger nodded, dropped his head back on the pillow, falling asleep again. His arm hung down, touching the floor with his fingertips. They hadn't turned off the lamp, Dean noticed, so he had to go to it and push the button.

Darkness descended upon the room.

Dean lay down again, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He needed sleep, after all, he was going to spend the whole day behind the wheel. But he just couldn't fall asleep. Parts of his dream were still replaying themselves in his head; one of those dreams, one of the many from those months.

At first, Dean just copied what he had seen in the bedroom of his little brother. But then the dream began to change, new details began to appear, the place changed, the actions... And finally, Dean wasn't a part of a fantasy, but the creator of it.

But his dreams- they weren't the strangest thing. Dean realized that his attitude to his brother had changed. He no longer saw him as a brother. The older Winchester now saw in him not just a very clever and strong man, but a very beautiful one too. Not that Dean didn't know about that, he just hadn't paid attention to it before, and now after he realized it... Dean was afraid to admit it, even to himself. If only one thought slipped to the edge of his consciousness he locked it behind seven locks.

But that wasn't the only problem. Since the day Sam had returned to his previous attitude, making a crack between them that grew bigger with each passing day. Dean realized that it was largely his own fault and that he needed to talk to his brother. He knew that the more time passed, the bigger chance of loosing Sam after raising the topic there was. But what could he say? I'm sorry I took advantage of your feelings because I wanted you back? And the lousiest thing was that Dean, in fact, did exactly that. He succumbed to his instincts, choked the voice of reason, not allowing it to engender doubts in his soul, and here he was, he got what he wanted- Sam was back, he was near. And everything seemed to be like before, only now they talked mostly about hunting, choosing accommodations, replenishment of weapons. Conversations from their souls forgotten. Not that Dean liked them very much but it was something like proof that Sam trusted him. Trusted him completely.

Dean frantically tried to find a way out of the situation. Made up words, reasons. Even a few times awkwardly tried to start a conversation. But all in vain. Sam was closed to him, no longer trusted him and didn't talk about what happened. And Dean was so immersed in his attempts to mend his relations with his brother that he didn't notice that in his heart grow something new, unknown, scary and beautiful at the same time, something that made each one of his cells want Sam even closer.

* * *

"I found us a job," said Sam, turning on his laptop.

The brothers were sitting in a cafe, waiting for their orders. In the morning, they had said only a few words to each other but it was becoming kind of a routine for them. Sam knew he acted like a touchy boy, but he couldn't act like nothing had happened. He felt like a coward. It would be easy to approach Dean, slap him on the shoulder and say: "We need to talk!" like Sam had done dozens of times. But it was before they had met with the djinn, before feelings buried deep within his soul were on the surface, before Dean kissed him.

That's right, everything was that damn kiss's fault. Dean was not supposed to kiss him, and Sam was not supposed to be like a fool to hope for something! Despite the fact that it was insanely stupid, it was even more stupid that it was still not cleared up.

"Yes?" Dean's eyebrow rose, "What kind of work?

Just then, the waitress came to them with their orders. Placing the plates on the table, she casually tossed the older a look and he smiled in return, that smile, which he used to the girls in bars. Sam rolled his eyes his brother's behavior was always annoying. To distract himself he took a swing of his coffee.

Finally the waitress, after smiling at Dean, left the table, swinging her hips. The older looked at her with an appreciative look, and then turned to his brother. His smile faded slightly when he came across the sigh of his unhappy brother

"What?"

"Nothing," growled Sam. Dean always will be Dean, nothing had happened, and besides what right had the younger to reproach him. "You want to talk about the new job or not?"

"Tell me," said Dean and took a bite of his hamburger and began to chew.

"In general, for the last month in Scranton five people have been killed in strange circumstances. If you believe the local paper, all of the bodies had been eviscerated and the organs were arranged to show that picture," Sam scrolled down, "But what does it mean, no one knows."

"And how do you know this is for us? It could be a local satanist's joke," Dean shrugged and licked his lips stained with sauce. The scene made Sam hot under the collar. "Damn, damn, damn don't think about it now, don't think about anything!" mentally he ordered his brain, which had already started spinning a carousel of memories. Memories which he urgently needed to forget and erase from his consciousness.

"Maybe you are right but it's worth checking out, don't you think? It might be for us," he asked as if nothing had happened, praying that the older hadn't noticed.

"Well, that is the only thing we got," laughed Dean and took a swig of his coffee.

* * *

Of all the things Dean was supposed to do, one of the most important was always first and everything else was after it. That was, of course, taking care of Sam, after it was hunting, and only then were cards, billiards and girls.

However, recently, there were virtually no girls. More precisely, he hadn't fucked for more than two weeks. Dean still remembered with mixed feelings his last one night stand.

After the sex, the girl he was laying side by side came to her senses and said, still out of breath,

"By the way, I was pleased you called me."

"What do you mean?" he asked in surprise.

"You called me Sammy like my late husband called me. I seemed to go a few years back," her eyes became sad and Dean cursed everything in the world, remembering that the girl's name was Samantha. He didn't know what to say, he had never been in that kind of situation.

"I'm sorry," he said guiltily, "I didn't mean-"

"It's okay," she smiled, her eyes still sad.

After leaving her, Dean immediately went to the bar and drank a bottle of whiskey.

From that day on, he did not have any more girlfriends.

* * *

When they arrived in Scranton, the brothers first went to the police.

Judging by the expressions on the FBI agents and the local sheriff, they were as happy to see them as one could be happy to see a cockroach on their desktop. But they still gave the Winchesters admission to the case.

"Damn," Dean grimaced with disgust as he studied the photograph, "I sincerely hope that this is the handiwork of some evil. The idea that a man could do that is making me see red."

"You told me yourself, demons can be understood, people- no," Sam lifted his eyes from the folder with the reports from the murder scene and looked at his brother.

"Yeah," the older smiled wryly, holding the photos. They were still in front of his eyes. The killer not only had ransacked the body but he had arranged the organs to show a sign that Dean wasn't acquainted with.

They were let in the Sheriff's office so they could explore the all aspects of the case. They had been there for only half an hour, but Dean couldn't wait to get out of there. He didn't like police stations, especially after Baltimore, where he was chained to a table.

"So what do we have?" the older stared expectantly at his brother.

"Well, not so much actually," Sam got up from the table, never taking his eyes from the folder went to Dean "Look, all victims have three things in common: they are all men, they are not older than twenty-seven and.. hell" when Sam began turning the page some leaflets fell from the folder. He immediately bend down to pick them and Dean was able to stare at his little brother's ass, dressed in black pants.

For a moment, the older Winchester forgot the five cadavers. Well, they were dead, what could they do? The memory of how the taller man looked without pants appeared in his imagination. To calm the raging fantasy, Dean quickly looked away and looked out the window, beyond which nothing interesting happened.

Fortunately, the younger quickly gathered the papers and stood up, stopping the visual torture of Dean.

"In general, what unites the victims is that they were all connected somehow to religion: two were young priests, one was a novice, and two others were relatives of clerics," Sam shoved back the sheets of paper.

"Hmmm... and the police weren't able to guess what was happening, even after the third body?" Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously; "I had a better opinion of the guys in badges."

"Perhaps, it's because, in a small town, the police don't have many employees, and it's unlikely the sheriff has enough people to take care of all of the priests and their families." Sam shrugged. He went to the copier in the corner to copy the photos.

"God, I can't believe it! You are defending them? " Dean said dramatically, " I'm insulted!"

"You can't blame someone just because they don't have the strength to deal with something," Sam said briefly, glancing at his brother then turning back to the photocopier.

At that, Dean didn't say anything. There was uncomfortable silence, which pressed down on his shoulders, as if weighing a ton. He didn't know what to do while his brother was busing himself with the pictures so he decided to take a look at the case again. He ran his eye through a couple of paragraphs before he realized that he didn't understand a word. His brother's last words were still in his mind. Something told him that Sam wasn't talking about the sheriff and his men.

* * *

People were scum... who love to scream about their own importance and how they change when they are facing danger, but there were still exceptions. Like these two, for example... Hunters. They were difficult to break but that was why it was interesting.

The demon smiled and put down his half- empty glass of beer. His place was well chosen; a dark corner, from which he had a good view of the bar. He had very important work, so he had had to kill the couple. The hunters were obviously here because of him. If you want to destroy the enemy, strike first. In addition, he had time until the next sacrifice the day after tomorrow day - so why not have fun?

The obsessed narrowed his eyes, appraising the hunters.

Definitely brothers, blood never lies. Their relationship could be felt a mile away. But there was something more ... something ... Oh, well, wow! What aninteresting couple. "I want-but-I-can-not-because-blah-blah-blah." This could be played with. It appeared that the older had already begun to claim him, still on subconscious level, ready to destroy anything and everything in his way. The demon wondered how long he would last before he gave up and fucked his sweet little brother. Although, he wouldn't mind playing with him as well... he had such an appetizing ass.. mm... he was just begging to be fucked. He would be, so to speak, the trophy, the reward for completing the work. But first, he had to drive a wedge between the two, and then get rid of them, one by one. Given that they had an obvious "couple's crisis" it would be easy. Besides, it would be fun.

The older one left the table and walked toward the bar. Judging by how good the bartender was, it wouldn't be long before he came back, chuckled the demon._ Fool, he doesn't see what he is missing... his lost_.

The demon rose from the table, threw a couple of crumpled bills and went to the other end of the bar where the younger hunter sat, completely absorbed in his work on the laptop.

* * *

Sam, waiting for the page to load, once again asked himself a question: What the hell was he doing here? He should work in the room. But it was enough only to imagine the silence of the room, the crushing atmosphere, making him think of everything that had happened recently, and he dropped the subject immediately. The noises from the bar made him concentrate on searching his computer and kept him away from other thoughts.

Dean had found them a table and then immediately rushed to the bar counter, where, judging by the smile on his face, he had already managed to conquer the barmaid. For a moment, Sam felt jealousy- after the story the Djinn had manufactured, he found it hard to hide his feelings for his brother- but then he calmed down. After all, Dean wouldn't change, and the younger was already accustomed to it and had learned not to pay attention to Dean's usual behavior. Besides, the girls his brother hit on often brought in useful information for their cases.

The website finally loaded and Sam started reading,

"Haures ... one of the seventy-two spirits ..."

Next to the text, there was a drawing of a something that could be called a spirit. Sam pulled the photos of the murder scene, just the one that showed the organs, and compared them to the pictures on the site. They were absolutely identical. The hunter felt the tingle in his fingers. He was moving in the right direction.

Sam put the photos in his father's diary- if someone saw them many problems would arise- and continued reading. He managed to read one more paragraph before someone sat at his table.

"Hello! Is this seat occupied?" the intruder smiled and raised his eyebrows. He was fair-haired, brown-eyed with a brazen face and a leering look, shamelessly undressing the Winchester, causing Sam to dislike him immediately.

"It is occupied," the younger brother said rudely. Usually, even if his companion was irritating, he tried not to show that it bothered him, "that seat is my brother's."

"Your brother?" the stranger asked with one eye closed, "Isn't he the one hitting on the bartender?" he nodded his head towards the bar. Sam couldn't help but look at the same direction. The barmaid was ignoring all of her clients and was leaning toward Dean so close that the distance between them was only a few centimeters.

"I see that he knows how to entertain himself," Sam turned to his unwanted neighbor "So you wanna?" the guy winked and laid his hand on Sam's knee.

At such impudence, Sam just froze. He stared at the stranger. He couldn't believe that he was being offered something like that. When his brain finally digested the words, his instincts kicked in. With one hand he threw the stranger'shand, which was already between his thighs, away andthe other he clenched into a fist and swung his arm to strike. The other caught his hand in the air and squeezed it so hard that Sam winced in pain.

"Well, what are you so nervous about?" asked the man with sweet voice, ignoring the hunter's attempts to free his hand, and looked him straight in the eye "I just suggested a fuck. Nothing relaxes and calm the nerves like a good fuck," he smiled, "and if you don't give me what I want I'll still take it so..."

"So let him go and go away," said a cold voice and Sam felt relieved. He pulled his hand again, trying to free it, when he felt the stranger's grip loosen. The man stretched his lips into a smile and slowly turned to Dean.

Dean had been just on the part "Baby, won't you give me your number," with the barmaid when he felt a stab and turned to where Sam was sitting. And what he saw, to put it mildly, he didn't like: a guy was getting close to his brother, and judging by the scared look on the younger's face he didn't like it.

He felt his blood boiling; wanting to break into pieces the man who dared to encroach on his brother. The older didn't waste any time dumping the barmaid with a simple, "I'm sorry, I urgently need to resolve an issue," and went to rescue his brother.

As he maneuvered between the tables, the situation began to take a threatening nature. Sam tried to hit the man and failed.

"Take your paws off him!" Dean almost shouted, but when he heard the stranger's last words, his eyes darkened murderously.

...Nothing relaxes and calm the nerves like a good fuck and if you don't give me what I want I'll still take it so...

"So let him go and go away," Dean said coldly. His calm tone and the threatening look in his eyes were masking the desperate need to throw away the idiot from the bar or to make him fly across the room. The desire to do it was reinforced when Sam threw him a grateful glance and sighed in relief. The younger released his hand and rubbed his wrist.

The stranger turned to Dean with an ugly smile on his face and the oldest Winchester clasped his hands into fists, trying to stop himself from hitting the guy.

"What, you don't like sharing?" asked the man in a confidential tone, lowering his voice.

"I said get out!" Dean growled.

"Dean, calm down," Sam tried to smooth over the situation, sensing his brother's anger. But the older just briefly glanced at him and he fell silent.

"Oh, okay I understand," the stranger waved his hands in a protective gesture and rose from his chair. He was taller than Dean but the hunter didn't even frown and kept up his intense glare. Then the man leaned slightly towards Sam and said, "Don't worry darling, we will meet again," he smacked his lips. Dean's eyes narrowed to small slits as he realized that this was far from his last try.

Acting on instinct, he grabbed the collar of the stranger's jacket from behind, turned him to face him and threw a punch to his jaw with all his strength, making him gasp and lean back on the table, nearly overturning it.

"Dean!" Sam jumped from his chair. The bar was quiet, all visitors had their heads turned to the trouble-makers. The stranger rose to his feet, with a smile touched his jaw and turned to the audience.

"All right; we just can't share some things, right?" his smile became even wider. His bruise looked terrible. "See you soon rabbit," he winked at Sam, "I hope when we meet next time your brother won't interrupt us," he said with a playful voice, looked at Dean, wiggled his eyebrows and headed to leave.

When the stranger disappeared behind the door, the bar was suddenly revived. The room filled with noise, someone laughing, the music picked back up, people returned to their interrupted conversations, perhaps discussing the incident.

The brothers didn't care; they were leaving the town in a few days. They just stood in silence until the younger dared to speak.

"Dean.." but the other immediately cut him off.

"Let's go."

Sam didn't argue with him.

* * *

The whole way to the hotel neither uttered a word. Both of them were deep in thought. Sam was confused, he just couldn't understand. The last month, Dean had behaved so differently that, in some moments, the younger couldn't even recognize his brother. At first, he had blamed it on what the older had seen in his imagination, but the more days rolled by, the more he thought it was something else.

Just today, Sam was grateful that his brother had interfered, and he had been too shocked from what had happened to react and nobody knows how it was going to end. But something was wrong... something, he didn't even know what, but his brother behavior was that strange.

Realizing that if he kept thinking his head might explode, he decided to talk to Dean.

As soon as the door closed behind the older Winchester, Sam immediately got down to business.

"Dean, we need to talk.."

"Hm..." His brother didn't even look at him as he emptied the insides of his pockets onto the bedside table.

"Dean." Sam took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. Starting a heart-to heart conversation with his brother was always hard, and, recently, it was almost impossible. "Dean," called Sam insistently.

"What?" Dean finally turned to face him and gave him the look, 'There is nothing to talk about,'

"We need to talk" Sam said firmly "And don't shrink away. What happened in the bar..."

"And what happened in the bar?" with sudden anger said the older. "What happened except that my brother was molested by a freak and who knows what could have happened if..." he suddenly paused and clenched his teeth. "Sam," he opened his eyes and spoke in calmer tone, "I don't want to talk about it. Everything went off and there is just nothing to discuss.

"No, " Sam stubbornly shook his head, "I think it is the time to discuss some things. You are behaving so strangely..."

"Strange?" Dean laughed, "and how exactly is my behavior is strange? Huh? Oh, well, maybe, I was wrong and you really want to go with him, eh? Maybe you want him to fuck you just as..." he paused again, clenched his fists and bowed his head as if trying to gather strength.

"Go on," said Sam with an icy tone, feeling the wave of anger rise within him. His brother's words hurt; before, he would have only smiled in response to such remark, but not now, not now, damn it! "Why did you stop? Come on, continue!"

Dean raised his head and looked at him.

"Sam, I'm sorry, I blew up..."

"Blew up?" Sam grinned evilly "Oh, great! You blew up so... Fuck you, Dean!" having said that, the younger turned and walked to the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" his brother shouted after him, when he grabbed the door handle.

"I'm going for a walk," Sam said briefly over his shoulder and went outside. He urgently needed to be alone and think.

* * *

It made no sense half an hour later as Sam wandered through the dark streets of the city, the only light above him shed by the scanty lamps. He had already begun to regret leaving.

Dean's words hurt him greatly, but he was the one to start that conversation. He deserved it...

Maybe you want him to fuck you just as.. this phrase injured Sam the most. There had been so much disdain and anger in him but now he was a little calmer and he again thought about what had happened. Sam couldn't help feeling as if he had given his heart to sea urchins. And their spikes caused him unbearable pain.

God, did Dean really thought about him like that? _"No, no"_ he persuaded himself,_"my brother said it in the heat of the moment. Everything just became too much_ _for him_." That didn't make it easier. After all, Dean knew that what he told his brother was actually true! The thing that disgusted him, what he saw in the genie's world; the thing that crushed Sam's illusions that he didn't feel anything toward his brother.

That is why Sam never came back.

To distract himself from his gloomy thoughts, Sam tried to concentrate on hunting. Sadly, the thoughts about Dean didn't want to disappear, but Sam was very stubborn. He paused, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and held it. Then he abruptly opened his eyes, sighed and walked on the sidewalk. Thoughts about Dean retreated into the shadows and Sam switched into hunt mode.

So what did he know? Very little, from the story about the spirit he hadn't been able to finish. But the concept was clear.

All five of the dead were required to call Hauresa spirit, a spirit that is able to discover all the secrets of the world and who would kill anyone for its master. But that wasn't the only problem. The release of that spirit could cause a chain reaction and wake other spirits. And this would lead to so much trouble that even thinking of it was terrible.

The more Sam thought about it, the more it seemed that they were missing something. Something insignificant at first glance, but very important.

Too bad his laptop was in the room. He didn't want to go there right now... Sam didn't even know what his brother would do, he was so strange lately that sometimes it was scary.

After thinking a bit, Sam decided to go to the scene of the last murder. He and his brother were going to do it tomorrow, but with all that happened..

Suddenly, Sam clearly felt someone watching him. He stopped and whirled. Empty. There was no one on the street, and silence reigned. Only the wind ruffled the branches on the trees at the edge of the sidewalk. Sam cast a suspicious glance and continued walking.

When the Winchester walked a couple of hundred meters, the stranger from before jumped from behind a tree, smiling and wiggling his eyebrows.

* * *

When Sam slammed the door, Dean's first impulse was to catch up with him and finally talk normally. But his sixth sense told him that nothing good would come of that. They will quarrel even more. First, Sam needed to cool down.

But forty minutes later, Dean began to think that small walks around the city at night weren't the best idea. It wasn't that he didn't trust his brother would be able to handle anything that came along. It was more that he didn't like the idea of people that he loved walking alone at night and attacking passers-by.

Dean fidgeted for about twenty minutes before he realized that a little more time and he would go mad. He picked up his phone, that was lying on the table, and on the eighth try, when Dean was ready to go outside to search his brother, Sam picked up.

"Yes!"

"Where are you?" immediately asked the older one.

"The scene of the last murder," Sam spoke in a calm, even voice, which irritated the hell out of Dean. It would be better if he spoke cold, rudely even, but at least it wouldn't cause the horrible feeling that Sam had reached his limit and now it doesn't matter for him.

"What are you doing?'

"Working," his brother replied rather rudely, and this was somehow easier; but it also made him concerned and a little angry.

"How do you work? You have nothing with you! Not the EMF, no weapons, no salt or holy water just in case something happens!" Dean now wanted to hit his little brother on the head. And then bind him to the bed because he dared to go somewhere without his permission. Dean suddenly became hot. No, he was fine... he was afraid to even think what that would bring. But one thing was for sure- it would bring something.

"Calm down," calmly replied Sam, "everything will be fine."

"I'm coming there," interrupted Dean, "You're acting like it's your first time on a hunt."

"Why would you come? There is nothing left, the cops have trampled everything, professionally." grumbled Sam.

Suddenly, he heard a commotion.

"Sam, what have you got?" Dean asked anxiously, but his brother said nothing, there was only static on the other end. "Sam? Sammy?" The older Winchester was on his feet. His heart was pounding like crazy. "Come on, talk to me, damn you!" But the connection, as if in mockery, broke, saying, 'The subscriber is outside the zone access, or the phone is off. Please call back later' politely said the recorded voice of the operator.

"Damn." Dean shoved the phone in his pocket, grabbed the keys for the Impala from the table and rushed to the street.

If someone dared to touch Sam, it was going to be the last thing they did in their life.

* * *

"Everything will be fine," said Sam, trying not to let his voice sound condescending. Sometimes Dean was unbearable.

"I'm coming there. You act like it's your first time on a hunt." his brother was clearly concerned, but he acted like Sam was going on a date with a Wendigo.

No, Sam knew that he, too, would be worried if Dean went on a hunt without weapons. But on other hand, Sam casted a skeptical look around- the walls of the abandoned building, located on the outskirts of the city were scarred with black strains. What can happen here? The worst had already passed. This was clear by the dark spots of blood on the floor and the police's yellow tape, surrounding the crime scene, the numerous traces of shoes everywhere. Looking at this, Sam could only shake his head and mutter into the phone.

"Why would you come? There is nothing left, the cops had trampled everything, professionally," he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, already preparing mentally for another tirade from his brother.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. The phone fell out of his hands. Instinctively, Sam rushed forward, trying to escape, but he was held tight.

"Hi," whispered a vaguely familiar voice as someone bit his earlobe, "rabbit."

That guy! The one from the bar! Sam tried to kick him, but missed.

He could hear Dean shouting through his phone, calling for his brother, but his attacker managed to step on it, crushing it with his heel, all the while restraining the struggling Winchester. The phone went dead.

"Well, we don't want anyone to interfere," said the man as he unsuccessfully tried to slam Sam into the wall.

"Let me go!" Sam twitched and the next moment the guy seized his hair and pushed his cheek to the dirty plaster.

"Release you?" the stranger laughed hoarsely, "Oh, no! I stayed here quite long to finish this, and I think I deserve a reward. And that reward would be you," he squeezed his fingers in Sam's hair, pulling his head back a little and licked his neck.

"Don't touch me! Damn!" Sam made another attempt to escape, stepping on the other man's foot. His attacker hadn't expected it, he snarled, loosening his grip and stepping back. The youngest Winchester immediately took advantage of this- Sam turned to face him and with all his strength punched him in the face. The other man retreated, but before Sam could move away from the walls, the guy lunged forward, grabbed the younger by the front of his shirt and threw him at the opposite wall. Sam cried out in pain and his eyes darkened. He took a few deep breaths and his mind cleared. He couldn't stand up so he lifted himself, leaning on his elbows and looked shocked at his grinning opponent. The fact that this guy was able to throw him like that, even thought he wasn't exactly small, made him tense up.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Guess," smiled the stranger, showing all his teeth. His eyes turned black as pitch for a moment and then went back to their ordinary brown color.

"Damn." Sam couldn't resist, realizing how bad the situation was. He was unarmed, his shoulder was hurt and the Winchester felt that his shirt was soaked in blood on that spot. His only hope was Dean, who, for sure after the telephone connection had broken, had headed here. Well, he could try to gain some time before his brother came "That means all those victims… It was you?"

"Yes," with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders the demon and made a few steps toward Sam. The hunter gritted his teeth, but had nowhere to crawl. His hand hurt, but it was tolerable. To relieve pressure on it, Sam moved his weight onto his right hand. It became more than uncomfortable but at least his shoulder didn't hurt so much.

"Can I ask you one more question?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"Well, you are my prize, I guess I can answer you one more question," the demon had reduced the distance between then and squatted down next to Sam, looking him with a carnivorous gleam in his eyes. It stung the hunter but he decided to be silent.

"Why the priests and their relatives?"

"Oh," laughed the demon, "I just thought it would be funny: the religious zealots, who led to the liberation of hordes of spirits from Hell. Isn't it ridiculous, eh?"

"You are mad," replied Sam. Looking back over the possessed, he saw Dean approaching with a pistol, and then he glanced back at the demon, so as not to attract attention to his brother. But too late. His opponent had felt something was wrong and turned around.

"Deeeean," the demon said as he threw his hand forward. The older Winchester was thrown back and he hit an old table. Sam tried to push himself up, but then groaned and touched his wounded arm. "What, you still don't want to share?" asked the demon, getting up and making a few steps toward the older hunter.

"Fuck you." groaned Dean, getting up first on all fours and then on his legs. There was no gun in his hand, it had been flung aside when he fell, but Sam could bet that his brother was still a threat to the possessed man. Wait. Dean didn't know that there was a demon inside the stranger! He must warn him!

"Dean! Be careful – he's possessed," he shouted and tried to get up again. Sam pulled himself up on his hands, trying to ignore the pain, and moved to the wall and stood up, using it for support.

He hadn't taken one step before the demon was in front of him. His hands clutched at his throat and Sam was again pressed against the wall. The possessed slightly unclenched his grip and Sam could breath freely, but the feeling that his life was in the hands of that bastard unpleasantly struck him.

"It was so nice of you to warn your brother," he whispered, leaning over Sam, his breath burning. Sam turned away and squinted, trying not to think about what the demon wanted.

"Leave him alone!" shouted Dean. The younger opened his eyes and looked at his brother. He had already climbed to his feet and was now clutching a gun. Obviously another one because the first was still lying on the floor, "I may not kill you, but I will at least hurt you"

The possessed didn't release his victim; he looked over his shoulder and said with a grin, "Why don't you calm down? Or better yet, shoot! How many of your bullets would hurt me and how many would our rabbit? Hm?" with these words Sam's insides went cold. He didn't doubt that his brother was a good marksman. But the demon... the bullets wouldn't cause any harm. Who knows, he may move at the last moment and the... everything will be over.

Dean apparently thought the same thing because he lowered the gun. Seeing helplessness flashing in his brother's eyes, Sam felt his heart start beating like mad.

"How touching," said the demon, "What love! Yes, Dean." after those words Sam looked puzzled first at the possessed and then at his brother. But Dean looked away and then straight at the creature, "Shut up bitch!"

"Or what?" the demon laughed and looked at the younger, "you don't know?" his voice betrayed astonishment, mixed with obvious admiration of the situation. He looked back to the older Winchester, "well Dean? Will you tell me? Tell us about the desires you are hiding from your brother. Come on, tell Sammy, tell him how much you want to bend him over and fuck him, fuck him good, as a male fucks his bitch..."

"Shut up," Dean yelled. He raised his gun and fired several bullets into the guy, "don't you dare talk about something you don't know anything about!"

In response, the demon only laughed. His body twitched every time it collided with a bullet but it didn't make him weaken his grip and the grin on his face got even wider. But Sam registered it rather automatically. His head was empty. He didn't know what to feel, what to think. His world had just gone upside down and he didn't have an idea what to do with it. _Demon lie,_ he remembered but.. hell, but this time Sam wished that they didn't. Everything was so confusing. At this moment, the hunter started to fall from reality.

"Hey, Sammy, don't fall sleep," the demon tightened his grip on his neck, squeezing his throat so it became difficult to breathe and it sobered him immediately. "I have an idea," whispered the demon, "do you want me to move in your brother's body? Hm? We can have a good time, I can feel you want him..." these words caused a wave of anger wash through Sam, which helped steady him. He suddenly realized what he must do. It was so simple that he was even surprised that he hadn't though about it.

"Regna ... terrae, cantata ... deo, psallite ... domine ..." said Sam. The words themselves arose in his mind, memorized during hunts and training.

"Shut up!" cried the demon. He squeezed Sam's throat harder. The hunter immediately began to wheeze and dug his fingers into the possessed's hand, trying to tear it off his neck but in vain. But suddenly the hand disappeared. Dean had realized his brother's plan, had run over and literally tore the demon from his sibling. The demon threw the older hunter across the room and turned to Sam but it was too late. The Winchester hit him in the face with all his strength and continued shouting words.

"Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, domine. Ut ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus audi," he hadn't feel so angry for so long. He felt as if with every word he was driving a blade into the already wounded body of the demon "... Dominicos sanctae ecclesiae," the possessed fell to his knees and clutched his throat. He started to scream but Sam didn't feel a iota of pity, he wanted to destroy that creature. "Terogamus audi nos. Nerribilis deus de sanctuario suo deus israhel ipse tribuite virtutem et fortitudinem plebi suae. Benedictus deus. Gloria patri ... " after those words the demon threw his head back with a shriek and from his mouth burst a huge black cloud. It rose to the ceiling and instantly melted.

* * *

On their way back, they rode in silence.

Generally, the silence was the most hated thing for Dean in this last month. It insanely weighed on his shoulders, it seemed he almost could touch it. But what was worse was the silence forced him to think. And since thoughts were swirling in his head, many at the same time... well, Dean wasn't very found of the silence.

He looked away from the road and glanced at his brother.

Sam sat beside him and stared grimly ahead. His right hand was squeezing the wound on his shoulder. Although his fingers were covered in blood, Dean didn't think that it was a serious injury, but, of course, he was still going to look at it. That saved him for thinking about what was really important- that demon managed to twist out his feelings, and that was a serious problem, more serious than a scratch on Sam's shoulder. But now Dean did everything to focus his attention on something else- his brother was hurt, he needed help. How bad it was wasn't considered.

"Come on, tell Sammy, tell him how much you want to bend him and fuck him, fuck him good, as a male fucks his bitch.." the demon's words broke into his consciousness, like a robber breaking into a house, and Dean could barely restrain himself from howling. God, how was that black-eyed creature able to destroy in five minutes the last remnants of his mental equilibrium, to which he was clung the entire last month! And Sam's face as he heard these words.. it was better for Dean to not remember.

He didn't hear what the demon said to the younger, but judging by the fury in his brother's voice as he screamed Latin, it wasn't poems about the nature.

Finally, they got to the motel. The Impala wasn't fully stopped when Sam opened the door and got out, literally as it was still moving. Dean parked the car and went after his brother.

"Sam.."

The younger, still not looking at him, raised his hand, silently begging him not to approach him.

"I'm okay," he was breathing heavily, Dean saw him shut his eyes and nervously lick his lips, "I'm okay" he said it more calmly now.

"That's is my phrase," almost blurted Dean but in a situation like this it was clearly not appropriate.

"Sam, go to the motel room. I need to examine your hand," in response, Sam looked at him strangely and the older raised his hands in a protective gesture immediately, "Okay, I just realized it is just a scratch. Take a look at it and make sure it is okay."

Sam gave a wry smile, walked to the car trunk, pulled out a bag and threw it over his shoulder. Then he turned around and went into their room.

Dean watched him until he disappeared behind the door and felt as if everything inside him was covered in a thin membrane. It was like his head was in a plastic bag.

"Damn," in a moment of anger, he struck the roof of the Impala with his fist. But he immediately repented it- it wasn't he baby's fault.

Taking a deep breath, Dean walked around the Impala, closing the doors and headed to the motel room, knowing what was waiting for him.

He guessed right- silence, silence again. And the worst thing was that Dean didn't know how to destroy it, or rather, he knew how but felt that if he did one wrong step he would loose Sam for good. So Dean was supporting that fucking silence.

Sam put his bag on the table, walked over to his bed where his backpack was and pulled out clean clothes. Then he disappeared into the bathroom and quietly closed the door behind him.

Dean took the first aid kit, put it on the bedside table and plopped down heavily on his bed,

Shielding his eyes, he leaned back and rubbed his nose.

* * *

Sam was shaking with rage and pain, which were mixing together and surrounding him like a ring.

Shutting the door behind him, he pressed his back to it, closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, trying to calm down.

It hadn't been necessary to take that hunt. Better yet, never starting the hunt for the genie. That's what it led to. Sam now knew what they were to each other and how to behave just watching his brother's eyes.

He had already forgiven him for his lie. He had wrapped his wrong love in a box and hid it somewhere far away in his conscious. At the end the only thing left were innocent feelings.

And then everything that demon had said had cast it back, depriving him of that seeming sense of calm with which he had lived in the past month. And what had the possessed man meant when he talked to Dean? Was it true or was it all a downright lies, aimed only to hurt? And what the demon whispered to him, Sam didn't even want to remember.

Opening his eyes, the youngest Winchester saw his reflection in the mirror. Saw and didn't recognize the face in the mirror. From the mirror wasn't watching him Sam Winchester, demon hunter, but a small, funky Sammy. To some extent, that was the way he felt too- powerless, exhausted, tired of keeping up his defenses.

He took off his shirt and hissed in pain when the blood-soaked material stuck to his wound. Looking at his injured hand, he frowned, the scratch was deep, and he'll have to sew it.

Hot jets of water washed the mud, the blood and the fatigue away. Too bad it wasn't able to wash away the other things that had settled in his mind after the hunt.

* * *

After coming out of the bathroom, Sam sat on his bed. Dean took a first-aid kit and moved toward him.

"Damn…" he whispered, seeing the wound. It didn't look so terrible, but it had to be stitched up. The younger had no T-shirt, because if he had, he would have had to take it off, the scratch was high- and Dean was able to feel the warmth emanating from his brother's body. He swallowed hard and leaned over the first-aid kit, looking for a needle and thread.

When he first pierced the skin, Sam swore, "Fuck…" he grabbed the back of the bed with his right hand so hard that his knuckles turned white.

Dean was so focused on the wound that when making the last stitch he pulled harder than necessary, making Sam hiss loudly in pain.

"Sorry," said Dean, carefully cutting the thread. Wiping the wound with a rag dipped in peroxide, he examined the results of his work.

"Nothing," Sam gasped. Just then, the older decided to look into his eyes.

How long they just sat and looked at each other, trying to understand what the other feels, Dean could hardly tell, but he realized one thing: either they decided this today, or the Winchester brothers would no longer exist, there would be only Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester.

"Sam," the older's voice was hoarse for some reason and he immediately cleared his throat, "We need to talk..."

But Sam interrupted him and looked away, "Dean, go to sleep." He got up from the bed and headed toward the bathroom.

This angered Dean. He wouldn't let it go so fast. He jumped out of the bed and with one stride he was close to his brother.

"No, we'll talk now," he seized his brother's unhurt shoulder and turned him.

"About what? What do you want from me?" Sam said vehemently, all the while trying to escape. "Let me go!"

In response, Dean only drew him closer, put his hands on the back of his little brother's neck and kissed him. Roughly. Hard. As if trying to say: I will never let you go.

It lasted only a few seconds. Sam pushed him and punched him in the face so hard that if it had been a little more Dean would have had to reset his jaw. The older Winchester touched his face and when he saw blood on his finger he looked at Sam with a smile.

"Nice punch, Sammy," he looked at his panting brother, anger flashing in his eyes from under his bangs, still wet from his shower, and Dean realized that he had already won. They had won. His brother just hadn't realized yet.

"I'm not your toy to play with me and a minute later to throw me away!" Sam shouted, not meeting Dean's intense gaze.

"Yeah, you don't look like Barbie," responded the older, approaching his brother. "Sam you do realize that it can't continue like this, right?"

"What do you want? What do you want from me?" Sam didn't even try to retreat.

"From you, I don't want anything," Dean shook his head. "I wish you belonged to me," he sharply reduced the distance between them and quickly, before Sam had time to react, caught him in his arms and threw them both on the bed.

"Let me go!" Sam tried to push his brother off but Dean was stronger. He caught the younger's hands and pressed them above his head "I hate you, you bastard!" Sam shouted in his face.

"No, Sammy, you don't hate me," Dean responded and covered the other's mouth with his own. Sam was biting him, writhing beneath him, trying to escape but Dean couldn't stop. If he thought that his brother didn't really wanted this, he would have never dared to do what he was doing now, but the younger wanted this, he could feel it.

Gradually, Sam's resistance subsided, he finally opened his lips and began to enthusiastically respond to his brother. Dean has ceased holding his hands and he immediately grabbed his big brother's head and drew him closer, his passion yielding to tenderness.

Without interrupting him, Dean tried to unbutton his shirt but his fingers just didn't want to listen. He had to break the kiss. The younger groaned in displeasure and reached for him. While his big brother was fighting with his buttons, Sam lifted his shirt and pressed his lips to his stomach.

"Oh," Dean's body jolted and he quickly pulled his shirt over his head. Sam's tongue was something unimaginable over his skin. The older Winchester entwined his fingers in his brother's hair and forced him to raise his head so they could slither into one more kiss, before dropping him back to bed.

As his tongue was exploring Sam's mouth, his hands were running down his brother's sides until they got to his jeans. After having unbuttoned them, Dean pushed his hand in his brother's boxers and touched his solid member. The younger man groaned, and suddenly grabbed Dean's legs and arms and overturned him, crushing him under his body. Then he whispered, looking into his eyes, "You sure? Tell me now, if you want to stop it all..."

In response, Dean continued caressed his brother's skin.

"It's one of the few things I'm really sure about," his hand left Sam's member and slipped on top of his buttocks. "I want you."

Sam immediately pulled back. For a moment Dean was afraid, thinking that he had rushed the things too much, or the opposite- he was too late, but then Sam took his jeans and boxers off and the older forgot everything. His jeans became unbearably tight. He quickly undid them but to pull them off while lying on the bed was hard.

"Sam," he groaned and in time his brother helped him get rid of his clothes. But Dean's member didn't enjoy its freedom for too long because as soon as it was out the younger took it in his mouth. The sweeping sensation made it difficult for Dean to breath. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Sam was playing with him. He would twist his tongue as if writing something on Dean's penis: then he would completely let go of it and kiss his testicles. The older was trying the best he could not to push in the hot humidity of his brother, but his willpower wasn't enough and when Sam took him back into his mouth, Dean just grabbed his head and started thrusting.

When Dean was close, Sam suddenly seized his fingers, tore them off his head and let his brother's member fall from his lips. Dean moaned from disappointment.

"Not so fast," murmured the younger and kissed him. Then he sat on Dean so his brother's penis rested right between his buttocks and fidgeted. At this Dean's eyes turned dark. Suddenly, he remembered how his clone had been fucking Sam and he was filled with the desire to wipe it off his own consciousness and to replace it with the real thing. He pushed forward, making Sam throw his head back and moan.

"Oh," with closed eyes, like a blind kitty, he stuck his nose in the base of Dean's neck and murmured, "Wait." After taking a deep breath he rose, trying to stand. In that moment, Dean took the opportunity to embrace his brother's waist and lick one of his nipples and then pave the path with kisses to the other one and take it. He could feel Sam trembling in his hands.

"Wait," he said again. When he returned, he sat down on Dean's hips again. In his hands, he was squeezing a tube of some medical ointment. _Oh yes, they would need that,_ Dean thought with a smile.

Sam squeezed a little on his fingers and moved a hand behind his back.

"Oh," he gasped when one finger entered him and closed his eyes. Dean, seeing that expression on his brother's face, smeared the ointment on his fingers, threw the tube and slid his fingers alongside Sam's. When his digits joined the younger one's and pushed inside Sam opened his eyes and looked at him. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked like they were black and Dean could feel himself drowning in the blackness.

"What are you doing to me?" he whispered as he added another finger, his other hand starting to stroke Sam's member. Sam began to thrust his hips forward to meet his brother's hand, while Dean pushed his digits even deeper, until...

"Dean!" cried the younger. Dean smiled and repeated the movement, listening with delight his brother's cries.

But everything faded when Sam began to gently sink onto Dean's member. The older felt like he was in paradise. His brother was so close, so hot, that one could go mad from the sensation that filled him.

He sat on the bed and held the younger one tightly and then overturned them, crushing him under himself. The involuntary movements of their hips had forced him to clench his teeth, not to moan, but it was worth it, when Dean, once on top, began thrusting. At first, Sam shouted, his voice sounding more in pain than in pleasure, so he slowed his pace. To distract his brother, the older covered his face and body with kisses.

But when Sam started pushing back to meet him and groaning with pleasure, Dean broke, His thrusts became hard and fast. His brother eagerly responded to his actions. His fingers slipped on Dean's back, scratching the skin with every moan as if to say: yes, harder... Dean snuck his hand between their bodies and touched Sam's member. That was enough for the younger one to tremble and come, his mouth wide open, as if he wasn't breathing. Hot sperm covered both their bellies and Dean's fingers.

After the orgasm, the younger one's grip weakened, his body relaxed, and shoving in, when it was so soft and pliable, was simple amazing. Soon, a wave of pleasure covered Dean, washing the reality that surrounded him, and for a moment it seemed like he was choking.

* * *

"Sam. Sammy," he called his brother, rubbing his fingers through his thick hair.

"Mmm," sleepily answered the younger, not raising his head from Dean's chest, apparently not even trying to open his eyes.

They were lying together in bed, covered with a blanket. The bed, however, was single and they had to cuddle so no one fell, but Dean wasn't against that idea: lying, embracing his brother and feeling the weight of his head on his chest was very good.

"Sammy, promise me one thing."

"What do you..." asked Sam in the same sleepy voice, firmly embracing his waist.

"If I ever promise you something, even if it's just a hint, and then don't do it, do something? Sam?" Dean laid his hand on his brother's forehead and pushed it so Sam could face him and moved his bangs away, "Sammy?"

"Okay," muttered the younger one and rubbed his nose against Dean's skin. " I won't do anything that jaw reset won't fix."

"Thanks," Dean smiled and pressed his lips to Sam's forehead.

"Don't mention it... Good night, Dean."

"Good night, Sam."


	2. Author note

**Author note**

_First, I'm really sorry for misleading you that there was a second chapter of the story. There is not one, and I don't think the original author plans to write more (but if there is I'll translate it... and hopefully do a better job) The reason I'm writing this is that this story had finally received the attention it so desperately needed for a year and now it's completely free from the mistakes I did when I first published it. It was done with the great help of MalfoyMaladyoftheDark... who did everything. I hope you enjoy it._


End file.
